Reaping Spiritual Fruits: JOY


Psalm 33: 1-7, 18-22
August 12, 2012

Rejoice in the Lord, O you righteous. Praise befits the upright.
Praise the Lord with the lyre;
   make melody to him with the harp of ten strings.
Sing to him a new song;
   play skillfully on the strings, with loud shouts.
For the word of the Lord is upright,
   and all his work is done in faithfulness.
He loves righteousness and justice;
   the earth is full of the steadfast love of the Lord.
By the word of the Lord the heavens were made,
   and all their host by the breath of his mouth.
He gathered the waters of the sea as in a bottle;
   he put the deeps in storehouses.
Truly the eye of the Lord is on those who fear him,
   on those who hope in his steadfast love,
      to deliver their soul from death,
         and to keep them alive in famine.
Our soul waits for the Lord; he is our help and shield.
Our heart is glad in him, because we trust in his holy name.
Let your steadfast love, O Lord, be upon us,
   even as we hope in you.

            Some of you who are newer members of Calvin Presbyterian Church don’t necessarily know this, but about five years ago we were part of a large, national study of churches. Diane Butler Bass—a church historian, researcher, and writer—studied mainline churches that were growing, but not necessarily in the way most megachurches were growing. The churches she studied weren’t necessarily offering contemporary worship services and a ton of programs. Instead, they were growing by emphasizing prayer and spirituality—what Diana called “spiritual practices.”

            She studies 75 churches overall, and 12 churches intensively. Calvin Presbyterian Church was one of the 12. She wrote about her study in a book titled Christianity for the Rest of Us. The book focused mostly on particular practices, especially as evidenced by the 12 churches. Calvin Church is mentioned prominently and constantly in the book, and the particular practice she noted us for was discernment and listening to God as a community and as individuals. She wrote about how we run our meetings, how we encourage listening for God in budgeting and stewardship, and how we teach the congregation to make listening to God a priority.

            I had a conversation with her after her book was published, and she told me that she and her research assistant, Joe, noticed a “practice” that we have that no other churches had to the extent that we had. According to her, we use humor in a way that no other church does. She gave me an example of what she meant.
           
            In one service she sat in on, Connie Frierson, who at the time was our seminary intern, was doing a children’s sermon. As part of the sermon she wanted to play a CD. The problem was that we couldn’t get the CD to play on our soundboard computer. So she then looked to Bruce to see if he knew the song and could play it on the piano. He shrugged and said that he had no idea. Then Toni yelled out that she thought there was a portable CD player in the nursery of the church. So someone ran out of the sanctuary to go look for it. We then had Bruce play some sort of kid’s song on the piano while we waited. When Connie came back in with the portable CD player, it took us a while to figure out where to plug it in. Finally, she got it working to great applause by the congregation. Diana she said that what impressed her most was how much fun we seemed to have as a congregation with all of it. At every step along the way, we made fun of the predicament. The members laughed at each failed attempt, and when we finally got it going there seemed to be a genuine sense of joy over everything.

            Diana said that how we handled all of it was so rare. She said that most seminary interns and pastors would have flipped out a bit over things not working. The congregation would have been a bit irritated. Members would have complained afterwards. We just thought it was funny. She told me that this may be one of our greatest gifts as a church. She just didn’t know how to highlight it as a “spiritual” practice.

            Why do we find humor in so much of what we do? Part of the reason humor is so much a part of Calvin Presbyterian Church has to do with our staff’s personalities. Pretty much everyone on our staff loves to laugh and crack jokes. It’s awfully hard to get us all together for meetings, or other events, and not have us joke about things. Another reason is that I grew up in a REALLY serious church, and its seriousness was part of what turned me away from church at age 15. We had a pastor at the time who used to preach about how awful we all were, how totally depraved we all were, and how we were all were lower than worms. But God’s grace saved us, though through merit of our own. He wasn’t criticizing the congregation. He simply was a strict Calvinist who believed that all humans are depraved sinners and are unworthy of God’s grace. I swore, when I was training to become a pastor, that when I became a pastor my approach would be one of joy and humor, not criticism and denigration.

            Those are two reasons having to do with us on the staff. There’s also a spiritual reason, and it’s an intentional reason. Simply put, Christians are meant to have a sense of joy, and we believe that this joy should especially be apparent in worship. I don’t know why it is, but I think that Christianity in general has gone through a long period of being SO SERIOUS. I have a favorite Christian joke that I think captures perfectly how Christians have approached faith for centuries, and it’s a way that I don’t think fits with what Jesus taught.

            There was a man who suffered from terrible headaches.  Being a typical man, though, he refused to go to the doctor.  Finally, his wife had had enough and forced him to go.  The doctor began his questioning:  “Do you smoke?”  The man replied, “I would never touch that evil weed!  It is the devil’s plant”  “Do you drink?”  Again the man replied, “Booze is the devil’s drink.  Beer and wine shall never touch these lips of mine!”  “Do you dance?”  He replied, “Dancing is the devil’s playground.  It lets the devil into our bodies.”  “Do you watch movies?”  “Nothing they make nowadays is worthwhile.  It’s all about sex and violence.  The devil uses Hollywood to pollute our souls.” 

            The doctor thought for a while and said, “I think I know what’s causing your headaches.  Your halo is on too tight!” 

            To be Christian should mean to have a sense of humor. Why? Because real humor keeps us humble, and there’s a connection between humility, humor, and being human. The words “humility,” “humor,” and “human” all have same root. They come from the world humus, which means “dirt” or “earth.” Think about most humor. It generally makes fun of being human. Not to be too irreverent (of course, in my first church I was called by several of our members the “irreverent reverend”), but most of what we think of as funny has to do with typically human things like burps, farts, eating, sleeping, peeing, sex, and stuff like that. Most good humor makes fun of being human, and it keeps us humble. Let me give you an example.

            There was a priest, a pastor, and a rabbi. The three used to meet every week to discuss religion, but often they ended up having bad arguments. So they decided to do something that would bond them. They decided to go fishing.

            So there they were, sitting in their boat, with lines dangling over the side. The priest looked at the other two and said, “I’m thirsty. We left our cooler on the shore. I think I’ll go get something to drink.” He stepped out of the boat and, walking on the water, walked to the shore, grabbed a drink, and walked back to the boat. The pastor then said, “I’m thirsty, too.” With that he stepped out of the boat and walked on the water to the cooler, grabbed a drink, and walked back. The rabbi felt a lot of pressure. He had to uphold his faith and show it was the equivalent to the other two. Otherwise the priest and the pastor would forever think that Christianity was superior to Judaism. So he stepped out of the boat, praying that God would help him walk on the water. His foot hit the water and he immediately sunk. Embarrassed and confused, he quickly swam to the shore to grab a drink. The priest looked at the pastor and said, “Do you think we should have shown him where the stones were so the he could have walked to the shore?”

            Good humor makes fun of both human pride and frailty. There was a 13th century Muslim mystic named Nasruddin who used humor as a way of teaching spiritual lessons. His stories are well known today among Christians, although, as is typical of many Christians, his stories are changed a bit so that people don’t know that they are Muslim. I love Nasruddin because of how his stories point out our human and spiritual foibles. He was an interesting man, too, because in all of his stories he is the main character, but he’s also almost always a fool. He teaches by first making fun of himself.

            One of my favorite Nasruddin stories is this: One day a man found Nasruddin on his hands and knees outside of his house, looking intently for something on the ground.  The man asked Nasruddin what he was doing, and Nasruddin told him that he was looking for the keys to his house. So, the man got down on the ground with him and began looking.  For thirty minutes they both looked intently, but neither could find the keys. Finally, the man asked Nasruddin, “Where exactly did you lose your keys?”  Nasruddin responded, “Over there by the bushes.” “Then why have we been looking over here?”

            Here’s another. The local mosque invited Nasruddin to preach a sermon. When it came time for him to preach, he stood up, looked at the assembled congregation and asked them, “Do you know what I’m about to preach?” They said no, and he said, “Well, I’m not going to preach to a bunch of people who don’t know what I’m talking about.” With that he walked out.

            The congregation was stunned and confused. They decided to invite him back the next week, and they knew what to say when he asked the same question. Once again Nasruddin stood before them and asked, “Do you know what I’m about to preach?” They shouted, “Yes!” He replied, “Well, if you already know what I’m going to say, I’m not going to waste my time preaching to you.” And he left.

            They decided that they had to ask him to come back a third time. Again he stood before them and said, “Do you know what I’m about to preach?” Half the congregation said yes, the other said no. Nasruddin said to them, “Well, the half of you that know what I’m going to say can just say it to the half that doesn’t.” And with that he walked out.

            These jokes are funny because they poke fun of human ignorance and pride, and they are profound because they also point out how ignorant and prideful we can be. Whether we realize it or not, Jesus had this kind of joy and humor. We don’t get to hear jokes that Jesus told, but we know that he was humorous and joyful because he was criticized for it. The Sadducees and the Pharisees complained that he was a drunkard, a glutton, and that he cavorted with all the wrong people. Their attraction to Jesus was that despite Jesus’ depth and brilliance, he also could be a normal person. He laughed and enjoyed life.

            The connection between humor and joy is that real humility opens us to find humor and joy in all of life. Of all the Christians I’ve known, the deepest ones have always been filled with joy, even if their lives have been hard. Basically they laugh, their eyes twinkle, and they enjoy the life God has given them, even if that life is hard. My first real exposure to this kind of person was Virginia.

            Virginia was a member of First Presbyterian Church in Murrysville, Pennsylvania, where I served as an associate pastor before coming here. She was like many other church members. She served on committees, as a deacon and an elder, and in the women’s association, but it wasn’t her service in these that made her exceptional. If you were judging her on her influence and leadership, you wouldn’t necessarily notice anything special about her. The thing that made her exceptional was the quality of her heart and her character. She had a spiritual something about her that you noticed fairly quickly. She was a woman who seemed at ease with herself, who knew what mattered in life, and who seemed to flow with God’s grace. No matter how difficult the situation was, Virginia was able to see the positives. 

            She lived a difficult life. She grew up in Fayette County during the Great Depression, and she had to work from an early age to help support her family. Even though she went to school, almost all of her free time was devoted to work. She met her husband, Charlie, after high school, and they got married, only to have Charlie ship out as a marine during World War II. For several years they maintained their marriage by letter as Charlie fought in the South Pacific. 

            After the war, they settled down, but Virginia soon found that they could not have children. So, they decided to adopt two special needs children. This was at a time when people didn’t really adopt special needs children. The two children they adopted were deaf. Virginia and Charlie learned sign language so that they could communicate with their children. 

            Virginia lived a difficult life, but no matter how difficult it was, she always had hope and a smile. Nothing seemed to faze her. I noticed this especially after she was diagnosed with liver cancer. I visited her several times in the hospital, and talked with her about her cancer. I was sure that she had deep-seated fears, and that I could help put her mind at ease. That’s what I had been taught to do in seminary. We learned that when people end up in hospitals with terrible diseases, they all have deep fears that they need to express. As pastors, we need to bring that out and help them deal with these traumas emotionally. I wasn’t prepared for Virginia’s response.

            When I visited Virginia, she was smiling. I asked her about her cancer and she told me that the doctors only gave her a few weeks or a month to live. I asked her how she felt, hoping to get to that deep fear. Virginia said that she felt fine. When I probed a bit more, she told me that the cancer didn’t faze her because she was ready to die. She didn’t fear death and was looking forward to meeting God. We talked for a while about what that would be like. Virginia had no deep-seated fear. She had a sense of hope, joy, and acceptance of what was happening. By the end of our time together, she had gotten me to talk more about my life than about hers. This is what I mean by her being exceptional.  She had such a deep faith that even the trauma of death couldn’t extinguish it. As a gift from God, Virginia slipped into a coma a few days later, and died a week later. Virginia inspired me in both life and death. 

            Over the years I’ve met many people like her—members of this church such as Jo Jones, Bill Uhl, John McMillan, Banks Brown, Betty Alexander… many more. They were a living testimony to the fact that faith could be serious as well as humorous, faithful as well as joyful.

            Joy comes from being so open to God’s presence in our lives that we see God in everything, even in our difficulties. Joy comes from living a spiritual life filled with gratitude for al that God has given us, humility in recognizing that we are nothing special outside of God, and lives in the now, letting go of fears and worries so that we can experience God in the present.

            We were created to live in joy. I want you to reflect on a question about the state of your joy. When you die, will people be able to say that you were filled with God’s joy? 

            Amen.